Wild Bear, Chapter 9: Prison Time
by An Asteroid's Belt
Summary: Tjorborn was just a regular caravan guard with a tragic story. Losing his mother at an early age, and having a strict father has never been easy on him. But, now he's the Dragon Born? Huh. Join Tjorborn, Ja'liir, Miora, Gorlock, Norin and Floria on a quest to defeat Aludin, and save Nirn.


"Well, at least someone's a gentleman in this group." Floria jokingly said, giggling. Tjorborn smiled, and they began to make their way up the mountain. Four thousand steps later, they had made their way to High Hrothgar. The Temple of the Voice. Gorlock dropped the bag the man at the start of the stairs had given him in a small supply chest. Tjorborn led the group, and he opened the mighty doors to High Hrothgar.

Inside, there were four Graybeards meditating. One of the men stood up, and looked at the Group. "Why are you five here? Is it knowledge you seek? Or maybe the ways of the voice?" The man asked, his hands held together.

"I'm the Dragonborn, sir. I am just answering my summons." Tjorborn said, bowing. Everyone in the group bowed besides Gorlock and Ja'liir. They stood, crossing their arms. "Ok then. If you truly are Dragonborn, we will see if you have the voice." The man said, walking to the other meditating men.

"I'm Agneir. I will be your main instructor. I am the only one who can talk here. If any of my fellows here talk, an Earthquake could happen." The group looked amazed, instead of Gorlock and Ja'liir, of course. "Well, stand here, my boy. An you four, just stay near." Master Agneir said, the other Meditating men standing.

"Show us your voice, my boy." Master Agneir said, almost demanding, but in a friendly way. "Ok." Tjorborn said. Tjorborn let out a "Fus!", knocking Master Agneir back a little. "So… It's true. After all these years. A new Dragonborn." Master Agneir said, in relief, inspecting Tjoborn and his group.

"Hm. Well, one word of the voice isn't enough to defeat Alduin. So, we will teach you "Ro." And "Dah.", the two last words of "Fus Ro Dah." Tjorborn stood still, his party watching him. "Master Wulfgar will give you his understanding of "Ro.", stand still." Master Agneir said. Master Wulfgar came out from the Graybeards, and gave Tjorborn his grasp of "Ro."

Agneir came last, and gave Tjorborn his understanding of "Duh." "Now, combine those words, and it will make a very powerful shout." Master Agneir said. "Ok." Tjorborn complied, shouting the words at some urns in the corner. "Fus Ro Dah!" He shouted, the urns flying across the room, almost hitting Master Wulfgar.

"You are the Dragonborn…" Agneir said, resting his arms. "Well, your final task is to retrieve Jurgen Wind-Caller's horn. Our very founder, he was. Here, I'll mark it down on your map." Master Agneir stated, Tjorborn pulling out his map of Skyrim, and Agneir marked the location down.

"Now. Be off. Your training will continue once we retrieve the horn." Master Agneir said, walking into another room. Tjorborn walked out, the group following him except for Floria. "You coming with us, Floria?" Tjorborn asked. "I'll catch up. I just want to talk to Master Agneir a bit." Floria responded.

Before Tjorborn could respond, she had left the entrance room. Tjorborn shrugged his shoulders, and walked outside, Gorlock, Miora and Ja'liir already outside. He opened the giant doors, to see two High Elves, a female and male, on horses, with five guards.

"Where is my daughter?" The man said, staring at Gorlock. "Who? We do not know who you speak of." Gorlock said, grunting at the end. "Where is Miora. Our precious girl." The woman impatiently asked, staring at Gorlock.

"We are the Germanderers, and we demand our daughter!" The man shouted, his horse strutting in front of Gorlock. "Father. Stop it. Now!" Miora said, pacing in front of Gorlock. "Miora? Is that you? What are you doing with filthy peasants!?" The man demanded to know, a guard grabbing Miora, and taking her to the other guards.

"Let go of me! Right now!" Miora yelled, struggling while the guars held her with a stone grip. "Let her go!" Gorlock shouted, readying his Warhammer. The three guards that were not holding Miora raised their shields and swords.

The man on the horse stood his ground, as Gorlock stared up at him, almost growling. "Filthy orc. Arrest him-" The man was interrupted by Miora, his daughter. "That filthy orc-" She said, finally releasing from the guards' grip, and running to Gorlock. "-Is my love interest." Miora said, holding his arm, his bicep to be precise.

"Love interest?-" Gorlock said, Miora punching his arm as he spoke. "Yes. He is my… my spouse! Yes, my spouse!" She shouted, making the story up as she went. "You? Married to a filthy orc? A fine woman like you would never marry a filthy orc!" The woman on the horse shouted, giggling.

"Well, you married father." Miora responded, smirking. "Enough of that! I, Feranor, and your mother, Leoa will not stand for this nonsense!" The father shouted, sweating, even though he was in one of the coldest places in Tamriel. "We have a ball, it's happening in Solitude, tomorrow! You will be coming, whether you like it or not! And these peasants that are with you will serve the rest of their days in the Castle Dour Dungeon! Do you hear me young lady!?" Feranor yelled, two Guards securing Miora by her arms.

Gorlock grabbed one of the guards, but two other guards came and surprisingly over-powered him. "Mercenaries are stronger than you think, filthy stupid Orc!" The woman, Leoa, yelled. Tjorborn and Ja'liir raised their weapons.

"Let go of them. That's an order." Tjorborn snapped, sternly staring down the guards/mercenaries and Feranor and Leoa. "No. But I assure you, you'll be there at Solitude. Maybe she'll visit." Leoa menacingly said, smiling. Three darts came flying from almost out of no-where, knocking out Gorlock, Tjorborn and Ja'liir.

Tjorborn woke up, lying on a hay-stack, in a small prison cell. "Ugh… Hello? Anyone? Anyone!?" Tjorborn said, a guard catching his attention. The guard walked up, he was obviously a Solitude guard.

"You are in the Castle Dour Dungeon. You have committed the crime of abduction, and rape." The guard said, staring Tjorborn in his eyes. "Abduction? Rape!? I didn't do anything of the sort! Was it the Germanderers that sent me here? They are liars, and racists!" Tjorborn stated which was very true.

"That's none of your business, Just shut up, and go back to sleep. It's the only thing you can do in that cell." The guard said, walking back to his seat, next to a chest, bulging with Gorlock's hammer, and Tjorborn's Sabre Cat skin helmet. "My gear… And Gorlock's Warhammer." Tjorborn mumbled, under his breath.

The guard was visibly tired, and fell asleep on his chair. "Gorlock? Ja'liir!?" Tjorborn quietly shouted, so he didn't wake up the guard. "Tjorborn!?" Gorlock said, looking through his cell bars, his cell next to Tjorborn's. "Oh, thank Talos! Where's Ja'liir?" Tjorborn asked, peaking his head out from his cell bars.

"She escaped. Before I fell asleep, she snuck out from the scene." Gorlock said, sitting and leaning on his bars. "We have to get out of here! Wait… what happened to Floria?!" Tjorborn asked, worryingly. "No idea." Gorlock said, leaning his head back.

"Damnit…" Tjorborn said, leaning his head back as well. "Wait… I can use the shout. It can break us out of here!" Tjorborn stated. "Nope. Too loud." Gorlock said, lying on his hay-stack on t5he floor. "Damnit…" Tjorborn said again, also lying down on his hay-stack.


End file.
